Character Card: Cerys
Feb 25, 2018

“Cerys”
20 YEAR OLD FEMALE BOSMER
1ST OF FROSTFALL, UNKNOWN BIRTHPLACE, THE TOWER​

“And just like a midsummer night’s breeze, she ran away, into the moonlight, a fox, proud and strong. The lone wolf walked away, saddened she was gone.” – Jason Winchester
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PERSONAL DETAILS:

Alias: None

Apparent age: Youth nearly defines her, from her behaviour to her appearance it is a tool used to disarm and to give her an upper hand. It goes without saying therefore that she is not often mistaken for a woman beyond her years.

Sexuality: Though never having entered into a relationship before she appreciates the appeal as well as the process of courting. Thus far she has only found herself attracted to men although she is not above a cheeky flirt in order to get what she wants from the fairer sex.

Marital status: Single

Occupation: As a second class citizen the bosmer was nothing but a thief and an imaginative problem solver, yet never a beggar. She would take what charity was offered but always, in her own way, attempted to pay back each kindness as well as each unkindness. She evolved with age, however, cleverly using her knowledge of the city to “retrieve” items of value, returning them to their rightful owners to demonstrate her skills. She was the thing they never knew they needed, or at least she had convinced them of such. Her main occupation is now retrieving goods, a venture on which she can support herself without crime and give back. This doesn't mean she has completely given up pilfering valuables, only that she reserves such treatment for the less savory characters she encounters.

Residence: She grew up on the streets of Markarth, though she was not born in Skyrim, and boasts an intimate knowledge of each street and of the people that walk them. After escaping an attempt to send her to live amongst the other orphans she found some shelter amongst the vagrants in beggars row, learning from them what she could. This is no longer her residence, however, as she has quite literally moved up in the world. During the warmer months, she lives above the city on a covered balcony long forgotten by the rest of the world where she can watch the streets, and be alone.

Family: The orphan has no recollection of a father figure, though she knows of course that she must have had one, even if only in a biological sense. He was no more than an idea in her mind, an explanation for features on her face who played no role in the dreams she had fancifully created as a lost child. She had never depended on him for hope, he was nothing like the mother she had fought desperately to hold on to, as she slipped from this world. She had pieces of that woman, memories that had been worn from years of being held too tightly. Her favourite of them all being the vague and solitary memory of feeling love.

Affiliations: Her only affiliates don’t organize under any one name. They are the unfortunate and the impoverished, the unwanted and the undeserving, the beggars and wretches that society has deemed unfit. She grew up amongst them, and would have been one of them had fortune not decided against it.

Noteworthy Personal Relationships: (Open for editing)

Political Views: The disdain she holds for the politics of Markarth began with the death of her mother and had continuously been reaffirmed throughout her life. The corruption and treatment of the less wealthy occupants disgusts her, and the guards and leaders who allow it all to happen are met with something closely resembling hate. Distrust was the most she could think to reward them for their past trespasses, caution was a necessity.

Religion:

Affliction/Disease/Ailments:

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“The only thing I was trying to portray was serenity. Also, innocence, vulnerability and elegance.” -Sylvia Kristel​

PHYSIOLOGY:

She was unexpected, that I could say for certain, in the same way that saw the sun break through the grey of winter to make you realize there was unappreciated beauty all around you, that you had only failed to notice. Likewise, she was a fire, a slow-burning flame that fed itself on tinder and pieces of lumber collected from the parts of the city that could no longer support themselves, that were useful to no one but her. She had that look about her of something that could not be held but only appreciated, more of a feeling or a fleeting experience had always existed on its own volition and came at no ones call or bequest. Snow and fire, like the exquisite paleness of her complexion against the deep auburn of her curls that framed the fox-like face, dotted with muted freckles and pink-hued cheeks.

Excusing all the frivolously romantic statements, she was to me still a thing of intrigue. Mountains of curls spilled around her like a river, gleaming in the light, through which slender ears appeared to always be in a state of blushing, glowing as the sun passed through them. When she would bind the mane in braids and leather strips it was revealed that she possessed a rather swan-like neck, elegantly poised between two small shoulders housing a sprinkle of freckles.The rest of her frame I could only assume followed suit, from what I could see her greatest strength was in her legs though she was ultimately svelte, lissome and slender. It was all so clear in her elegant and seamless way of conducting herself, each movement completely natural and spirited. Also worth noting were her quick fingers that would have been ideal for the mastery of any number of instruments which often left me to wonder if the melody I had once thought imagined, playing illusively on the breeze, was of her making. It was all rather mysterious, which only served to draw me in further, mystery being somewhat of a pastime of mine.

However, I was most transfixed and often enchanted by her eyes above all else. Her face was lovely of course, as already described. High cheekbones and heart-shaped with a slim nose, it complimented her other features kindly, sharp and soft all at once. Her lips could have hoped to rival her gaze should it not have been so piercing, with a deep cupid's bow and an enticing fullness bathed in a gentle rose palette, but there was no hope for me there. I got lost somewhere between the ring of deep dusty green that hinted at blue that circled her iris, and the fern, seafoam green-hued backdrop upon which the rest of the colours reached. Webs of white began to entangle me, holding my lungs captive as bursts of yellow faintly trailed them, as I neared the darkness of the pupil only to find a brilliant burst of fiery orange encircling the black, and defining its borders. Red, I would blush a thousand times to linger on the unique show of colours, but of course, it was her nature that I should never have my wish. She was too sly to ever let me know her as more than a mirage, dancing and ever-changing against the heat of my desires.

“...I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…” -Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Le Petit Prince​

PERSONALITY:

As far as most onlookers are concerned two main conflicting traits dominate the lithe bosmers personality. The first of the two was embodied in the way that she carried herself through life with an intoxicating youthfulness and sweet demeanor that made her delightfully unassuming. An Innocents characterized by her age and cultivated by careful presentation and denial of knowledge known to her in order to appear unthreatening. In this, her kindness lived as well, perhaps the most genuine and disingenuine aspect of this specific grouping of traits. Her eagerness to aid coupled with her naive belief that she could make a change that was so often thought to be a weakness, only a lure for a lesson sorely learned to reveal the second grouping or characteristics.

The second painted her as a sly, crafty character whose role would have been the trickster in any myth or tale. Sharp-witted beyond anyone's assumptions she was almost exclusively able to use these traits in conjunction with the first to leave targets feeling the impact but confused as to where to place blame for the fallout. Deeply manipulative it is wholly unclear if her kindness is genuine in each individual case as she will often choose to treat others as a friend for her own personal gain. With a set of warped yet stanch values that define her she is willing to use others to obtain her goal and having been abandoned and dismissed so often finds it easy to slip away without much of a second thought. This makes her typically disloyal, not finding anyone deserving of such treatment. Those that push her should be cautious as her false demeanor can be abandoned to reveal a rather unsavory vicious edge.

Beyond the Cerys presented and utilized when facing a harsh world a more playful and true nature exists within the small space she has created for herself, high above the city. Curious beyond reason and with an innate ability to climb and desire to sit atop the tallest spires of the city she often escapes to heights that others should quiver in fright to simply consider. Above the streets, the chaos can not reach her, and she is able to enjoy the solitude of her own company. Cheeky and somewhat scrappy she was not without humor and grit though she had few to share in this aspect of her. She understood survival, and had a great knack for it, but ran into problems considering anything beyond this. Relationships made one weak, she had come to understand, and no one loves a sad girl. She was always quick to learn and had a desire for knowledge, and this lesson she had come all too quickly.

A favourite past time of the mer is to climb to great heights in the city, and on sporadic outings into the surrounding hold. She is extremely adept in this venture being quite dexterous and takes full advantage of this for tactical reasons as well as for personal enjoyment. She finds great satisfaction in looking over the streets and valleys, watching life unfold.

She has an insatiable need to learn and a quick mind to keep up with most anything thrown her way, therefore she is always looking to learn something from the world, and people around her.

Freshly baked pastries and fresh fruit are amongst her favourite treats, though she almost exclusively avoids meat.

One of her earliest memories is that of running her fingers over the leather of one of her mothers' old books and learning to read over those same pages. She finds great joy in them because of this.

Warm furs and skins were once a luxury, and remain so to a degree. Being warm and comfortable was never a guarantee in beggars row and so her own sheepskin bedroll is a prized possession.

Feeling of being freshly clean and of clean cloth on her skin gives her the sense of a more simple and gentle world. When possible she also enjoys swimming in remote pools of water within the reach.

Fragrant flowers are amongst her favorite flora, those with pure white petals enthrall her that much more.

Rising with the sun, and finding peace under the light of the moon.

As many others do she finds herself quite enraptured by poetry and beautiful words. The same can be said of music and song, both of which she seems to possess a natural talent for.

Dislikes: Corruption, Sexism, Elitism, Pompous behaviour, City guards, Most of Markarths governing powers, The smell of cooking meat and the sound of sputtering fat

Being a rather gifted thief has meant that Cerys has not had to face as many confrontations as some in the same line of work, however living on the streets has taught her to defend herself with adequate skill. As a young child she was an easy target for those whose morals did not stop them from preying on children. To avoid going hungry she quickly learned to use her speed, size, and knowledge of the city to defend herself and flee while also remaining constantly alert, relying on her ability to remain in the shadows whenever possible. She learned when to strike first and when to stay hidden and slowly how to fight back.

With the introduction of daggers she had the opportunity to become lethal, though she always preferred to disarm or incapacitate a threat. Still, the daggers were useful in many other ways and became a staple along with her lockpicking tools, climbing gear, and trusty rope. Should she not be able to talk her way out of something, which was rare, she would be prepared.

As far as magic is concerned the mer can boast no more than a few simple spells taught by the odd vagrant or patient citizen. She desires to learn and the wit to succeed however she has not been presented with the opportunity which was, as she saw it, everything when it came to magic. For this reasons she will not depend on even those spells familiar to her in a pinch as she believes them to be unpredictable in their outcome.

Class: Thief/ Rogue

Major Skills:

Sneak

Pickpocketing

One handed

Other Noteworthy Skills:

Lock Picking

Speech

Unarmed

A tentative command of various low-level spells

Weapons: The only true weapon she carries are daggers, of various makes but suitable quality. Though one rests on her hip in a fringed sheath the others are more carefully hidden, calculated in their placement for ease of use. Aside from this some of the tools hanging from her belt for use when climbing could also make for glorious weapons should she feel the need.

/GEAR/:

The Bosmer avoids being obvious within a crowd and will openly laugh at any thief who clothes and arms themselves as one would expect a criminal to do. The most successful thief is the one that no one suspects is the truth of her practice and the rule by which she adorns herself. When not necessary armor of almost any sort are abandoned, leaving her with only the basics.

Her boots are sturdy brown leather, comfortably worn and soft. Ending below her knee they reveal brown and white herringbone winingas each pinned with a simple pendant within which her slate grey pants are neatly tucked. Loose along her body and made of what appears to be thick linen they are only interrupted by leather knee guards and a few brass buttons. She sports two reliable belts, with one snuggly around her waist and the other falling to one side. Boasting a number of small pouches, a few dagger sheaths, a length of rope, climbing implements, an embroidered cloth and many small trinkets they are largely utilitarian in nature. Around her waist and ending beneath her bust a more supple and thin leather piece holds her, pale brown leather with cream sinew along it's seams with a loose cream chemise beneath. Other articles depend largely on the season though she wears various gloves throughout the year and always appears in a grey cape capable of concealing her face and form.